


Here

by ashesandhoney



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Break Dance AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:33:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6297346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashesandhoney/pseuds/ashesandhoney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's a ballet dancer. He doesn't belong in back alley dance competitions but there's no where else he wants to be</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be "drabbly" by which I mean it'll be little flash chapters when the mood so strikes me.
> 
> Also yes, this is because starrycove's breakdance au has been ALL OVER my tumblr dash recently.

  
Adrien had always hated the colour green. He had been a wood sprite in a production of Midsummer Night’s Dream where he’d had to paint his face green every night for what felt like months. He had also been nine so there was something to be said for that being a maybe being less than accurate memory. That he’d been on stage at the Place de l’Opèra even as breathing scenery was something to brag about everywhere but here.

Here wasn’t like other places. Here he wore green and black and meant it when he smiled on stage.

The lights flickered as the gels changed. It wasn’t a fancy set up. It was a high school gymnasium that they probably didn’t have permission to use. He rocked up on his toes, his ankles straightening to lift him onto pointe but that wasn’t this place. This wasn’t for perfection and detail. This place was for movement and music without all the pressures to take the fun out of it. He bounced a few times, landing hard on the old wooden floor just because a landing that hard would have made his tutors flinch.

“Graceful, Agreste, again, remember grace,” they would say.

But not here. This place wasn’t for that.

The stage lit up green and he let a grin slip. He rolled his shoulders and waited a minute. He wanted people to be watching. Not through opera glasses and behind polite clapping. He wanted them watching. He slunk up to the edge of the lights and looked out at the crowd. Adrenalin hit him. This reminded him why he danced. Every movement was life and pounding energy. His heart rate was up and he hadn’t even started to really move yet.

He didn’t see her. The girl with the dark hair and the bright red who hit the floor with a tinkle of Tchaikovsky that had become as much a signature for her as the green lights were for him. She was everything this place meant to him. Confidence and joy. Speed and a beat that you couldn’t always predict. Movements and routines that had never happened before. She was creativity and beauty and he didn’t know her name. She wasn’t there. No flashes of red in the crowd.

He waited until someone called his name. Not his real name. That didn’t belong here either. No, they called the name of a confident boy with unnatural green contacts and makeup smeared across his face like a mask. He pulled his hood up and tilted his back so the contacts caught the light. He knew he didn’t look quite human. That was the point. Here he wasn’t the perfect boy. Here he was just a little bit alien.

“Chat Noir!” the crowd was finally as loud as he wanted them and he hit the floor and let the music decide what happened next.


End file.
